


Que Sera, Sera?

by shirine



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: Advice, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirine/pseuds/shirine
Summary: Am I content with whatever will be, will be? Is the future really not mine to see?





	Que Sera, Sera?

"Clairvoyance."

 

"No."

 

My brows furrow and my fingers grip a little tighter on the handle of the cup, but he doesn't bother. He's a hard man to deal with, that much I know, and I thought I came here prepared to talk to him. I thought that I could get my point across, yet every time, I'm always proven wrong. He is a wall; impenetrable, strong, silent.

 

I push up my glasses and try again.

 

"The predestined can be changed."

 

He looks at me from his papers. "For want of nail."

 

"We're not doing crossword puzzles, Twiright-" I interject. I try to. All it takes is another look from him to make me stop dead in my speech, and I look down at my half-finished tea again. It's useless.

 

"Try again," he says again.

 

What's there to try, God damn it? What's left? I didn't come here for some shitty game to deal with him; I came for answers to my questions, and in the end, I'm here with the same cycle again and again. We sit down and have some tea and there's some tea cosy somewhere and I play verbal crosswords with him. I even start solving them in the papers when I have time, and Raisa looks at me funny whenever I do.

 

I drink my tea.

 

Tea should be as sharp as something, something, and as bitter as wormwood, or something. I don't know. I've never read that part.

 

"....Give me another chance," I murmur. "I'll get to the bottom of this. I promise."

 

"I already did," he says, sounding surprised. Seth Twiright puts his work aside and tents his fingers as he gives me his undivided attention. "Try again, I said. We have all the time in the world, but you'd better finish by five. That's when I clock out of work."

 

"I don't give a damn when you clock out," I irritably snap. "Determination."

 

"Futile trying with no aim," he responds.

 

I ball my hands into fists and get up, and with my patience having ran thin, I wrench the doorknob open and leave the room.


End file.
